


doubt that the sun doth move

by demonicxiconic



Series: BT Tower Telephone Group D [5]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Injured Crowley (Good Omens), Lonely Aziraphale (Good Omens), M/M, Pre-Relationship, Rain, The Great Flood, Wingfic, crowley cares too much about people, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:56:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26648641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonicxiconic/pseuds/demonicxiconic
Summary: a good omens telephone work by yours truly.title from shakespeare’s hamlet, act two, scene two.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: BT Tower Telephone Group D [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937851
Comments: 9
Kudos: 73





	doubt that the sun doth move

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [hold out your hand; take hold of mine tonight](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26652238) by [apocalypsenah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/apocalypsenah/pseuds/apocalypsenah). 



> _doubt that the stars are fire  
>  doubt that the sun doth move  
> doubt truth to be a liar  
> but never doubt i love._
> 
> ☆

Aziraphale was worried. He shouldn't have been, but he was.

Crawly was his _adversary_ , his enemy, his opposite. He was a demon, a tempter of the worst kind, a vile serpent-

And Aziraphale missed him.

He hadn’t seen him since Noah set off, as both of them had left after the boat was loaded. The Flood had happened as planned, though a few pieces of land were still jutting up from the swollen waters, like flowers pushing up through dirt in the spring.

It was on one of these fragments that the angel sat, face propped in his hand, idly watching the sky. It was terribly uncomfortable, all the little bits of rock and dirt sticking into him and surely dirtying his robe, which was still wet from the recent rain and beginning to stick to him, but what wasn’t uncomfortable lately?

He’d had the option to return to Heaven. They’d actually asked for him back. Uriel, looking very uncomfortable in the rain, had flown down and requested that he train some newer angels in sword technique. He’d politely declined, fearing that they’d request to see his famous flaming sword and reveal his ruse. Though, (and he could barely admit this to himself,) there was another reason he hadn’t returned.

Aziraphale was beginning to enjoy Earth more than Heaven.

It was quite silly of him. After all, wasn’t Heaven supposed to be perfect? Why would he choose this little rock, with all its sin and dirt and craggy edges, over his perfect, sterile, God-given home?

He didn’t know, but what he did know was that something was floating towards him on the horizon.

Over the week or so since the rain began, Aziraphale had begun living off the land, so to speak. He’d used driftwood to create a sort of house for himself(and was quite put out when a particularly strong storm knocked it over), and he’d rescued a small goat that was nearly dead from exhaustion, but quickly became irritated with it when it began munching at his wings. He’d ended up leaving it on the grassy island he’d been staying on and abandoning ship to the uncomfortable mountaintop where he sat.

He stood, narrowing his eyes and squinting to see what the vague dark shape was. Any human, no matter how sharp-eyed, wouldn’t be able to see what Aziraphale saw, and therefore wouldn’t have let out a quiet gasp when they realized the shape was a person, slumped over a tree branch, hair flowing through the water like a jellyfish.

With a few flaps, the angel was above the figure, quickly pulling his wings back into his corporation and landing with a thump on the wood.

As he scooped them up with a tiny burst of angelic strength, he admired their hair, apple-red and magnificently curly. It reminded him of C- of someone.

Of a friend.

Aziraphale shook his head, letting his wings spread out behind him and carrying the person back to his little island, setting them down on a soft patch of dirt.

“Alright, let’s see- ah.”

The person coughed weakly, a wobbly grin spreading on his face. Two slit-like pupils were focused on his face, though they were having quite the time trying to stay that way.

“Heya-“ another quiet cough, stifled by a calloused hand- “angel.”

That blasted title, said like a plea, like a promise, like a prayer.

Aziraphale closed his eyes, letting out a quiet breath.

“H-hello. Crawly.”

The lopsided smile faded from Crawly’s face, and he groaned, grinding the palm of his hand into the center of his forehead as he attempted to prop himself up. Aziraphale pushed him back down by the shoulders, trying not to get carried away and knock the demon out. He’d never been terribly good at playing nurse, but he supposed he’d have to in this situation.

“Whadja do tha’ for?”

Crawly’s words were slurred, and he was looking up at the angel through one half-opened eye. His robes smelled of salt, and they stuck to his skin as Aziraphale peeled back the collar of his robe, beginning to systematically check him for injuries.

“You need to hold still. I don’t want you aggravating any bumps you’ve got, and besides, if you’re moving, I can’t find them.”

Crawly looked as though he was beginning to construct a counter-argument, but instead he flopped back and muttered, “..Ehh, fair point.”

It was silent for a few minutes as the angel inspected the demon, save for a murmur of “Could you turn over?”. He seemed to have bruising on his chest and knees, as well as a small gash in his left shin, but other than that, Aziraphale figured he was simply fatigued.

Crawly finally spoke as Aziraphale inspected his back, though it was muffled by his face being essentially smashed into the dirt.

“S’ vrry.. vrry nice’ve ya. T’ care.”

“Well, it’s what I’m supposed to do, yes? Care for the Earth and all its creatures.”

Though he didn’t know it, those words struck a particularly sensitive nerve, in more ways than one. Being thought of as a creature of the earth, not a terrible demon, an abomination from Hell, was the kindest thing Crawly could imagine anyone saying. At the same time, hearing that the only reason Aziraphale was tending to his wounds was because of some sort of obligation Heaven had given him made him feel bitter, made the little snake inside him inject just the tiniest bit of venom into his soul.

He’d focus on that later, when he wasn’t so bloody tired.

“Angel..?”

Aziraphale blinked, and there was a heat in his cheeks that couldn’t be explained by the sun he’d caught throughout the non-rainy portions of the day. 

It was just a job descriptor, not affectionate in any way, not a pet name to be whispered in the dead of night.

He’d been silent for too long.

“Er, yes?”

“‘Ld’you mind ‘f I fell ‘sleep?”

“Well, as I was just about to recommend you get some rest, no, I wouldn’t.”

“Good.”

And with that, Crawly was turning over, reaching up to Aziraphale with wide, plaintive eyes. Without thinking, the angel took his hand and pulled him upright, letting out a quiet “ooff” as the demon stumbled, leaning his whole weight onto him.

“Nn.. y’make a good pillow, ‘Ziraphale.”

“I- you- are you suggesting-“ Aziraphale spluttered. Crawly smiled, tired and soft, as he pushed his face further into the angel’s neck. He looked relaxed, less tense than Aziraphale had ever seen him, and it made his heart leap into his throat.

A drop of rain hit the top of his head, and he looked up, grimacing at the building clouds. There was a quiet rustling sound, and he looked down at the demon with surprise as his dark wings unfurled from his back, covering the both of them.

“This time ‘s my treat, yeah?”

Aziraphale blinked, and before he knew it he was nodding, a nervous smile forming on his face.

“A- alright.”

Maybe this flood was good for something after all.


End file.
